


Wish He Was Them

by Mellifluism (orphan_account)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Emotional Hurt, Heartbreak, Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M, Tragedy, Tragic Romance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24268849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Mellifluism
Summary: As the moon rose high and the day of the grand ball came to greet the students, a time for joy and happiness befalls his highness over a mistake he wished he could go back to change, all after knowing that same night would be the night his heart fell victim to heartbreak.
Kudos: 7





	Wish He Was Them

**Author's Note:**

> Hewo. I'm not a new fan to Fire Emblem, but I recently got my hands on Three Houses and I decided I should express my inner depressed feelings and put them into words over two certain characters I've recently become fond of. This song is also heavily inspired by Conan Gray's 'Heather' and you can find hints of his lyrics in the story so good luck finding them!

The banquet was bustling loud and boastfully with the cheerful cries of each student. It was a mesmerizing scenery, dazzled with flashing colours and floating lights, illuminating the elegant space that enclosed the frantic happiness emitted from everyone in the room. Dangling high from the ceiling were the crystal chandeliers sparkling golden reflections amongst the intricate walls, flickering amidst the lavish sounds of enjoyment and joyful dancing that spun underneath. The clap of their shoes in unison, the smile upon pairs of wistful lips, the chatter of the women and men that conversed about the beauty of the moment that would only last that night. 

The 25th of the Ethereal Moon. 

The Millennium Festival on its 995th year. 

It was a moment to be reckoned with, as one of the nights that marked Garreg Mach’s beautiful glory in gold, wisdom, beating hearts and happiness. Nothing else in that entire year felt as grand and as nostalgic as the strumming beats of the music while a crowd gathered into a circle, everyone lifting cups and sharing a drink as if they were old children who wanted to be younger again. 

Nostalgia; everything that everyone wished for on this very night, hoping to cherish it while it lasted, not knowing if the days where the sun rose or nights where the moon shone over the plains would ever revive the same feelings ever again. 

As they danced, as they cheered, clapping and smiling, some were proud and thankful that it would be today that the weight of the world had given them a chance to be free. 

While it continued on, the dancers hand in hand, among the crowd of gazing eyes rests a single pair held with uncertainty among a flurry of green. 

_“You don’t look like you’re enjoying the festival, Professor.”_

_“Professor, you’ve only had one glass of Almyran wine!”_

_“I don’t suppose the Professor fancies a dance, does she not?”_

A sigh hid behind calm and succulent, pink lips. 

_‘Yes’_ , she mouthed, belittling and wiping behind the truth from her sunken chest. _‘Yes’_ , she mouthed to another, appropriately downing a flaxen chalice held with exquisite liquor blessed by her hands. _‘Yes’_ , she mouthed, graced by a hand who clasped her delicate fingers and pulled her along where her feet forced her to keep in hiding. 

It was a day on the Ethereal Moon, just like any other, yet another pair of eyes, held in a deep sea of blue, felt the need to turn his head and stride towards the same serving table that kept all their Adrestian spirits. 

“This is your fifth trip to the serving table, Your Highness,” a deep stark voice had muttered at his side treating himself to a drink, “I didn’t think you’d be going with our word when we said ‘have a little fun’.” 

It was difficult to keep to himself, the eternal burning flame that ignited inside his chest, feeling the need to squeeze or grip at his throat but instead poured himself a glass and turned to the familiar face hoping the death-sinking pain would wash with another source of fuel; for his happiness or his flame, he wasn't sure what. 

“Well, at least you’re one for counting the spirits that I’ve come to enjoy, Dedue.” He brought his chalice filled to the brim to his aching chest. “I figured I may as well enjoy the moment while it lasted as this is the last time we may see each other before graduation.” 

Dedue’s scruff laugh stifled the noise of the banquet in the reception hall. Another moment of relief that would only last a few seconds. 

“Well, please, Your Highness. Do have fun while you can. I don’t think I need to be at your side in this moment for you to appreciate the grandness that is the sumptuous ball.” 

He forced a soft laugh, not genuine, insincere, hiding behind a mask of terror and scorn knowing his fifth glass of spirit was his definition of 'grandeur'. 

“Well, as I am glad for you to have been here with me through all my life’s adventures and journeys,” He raised his glass high. “I wish to share this final special occasion with you, to a glass, in honour of our land’s glory.” 

Dedue gave a hinted smile. 

He gave back with a smile hiding an outcry of pain. 

“To Fódlan.” 

“To Fódlan, Your Highness.” 

The downing of fire that burned at his throat, the roaring of the flames in his chest that was fueled by his mistakes and overcome by vanquishing history throwing at his mind during a time of happiness and glee. While the golden vessel met at his lips absorbing the taste of fine liquor, his fifth glass was not enough for his memories to die in the pit of his stomach. 

“You should share the main dance with the other students, Your Highness.” A fair suggestion seeped through the lips of his assistant, unsure if he saw through his mask noticing how scathed he was to keep the pain to himself. 

He wasn’t sure if he was ready, ready to see the beauty that was of something he knew he could no longer reach, ready to keep the moment engraved in his mind for the years to come, to witness everything he hoped he could hold forever in his hands, to fall apart and collapse into dust. 

_All knew he was strong, but he knew he wasn’t strong enough._

“I’m not one for dancing, Dedue, but I am willing to give it a solemn attempt.” He lied. 

He set aside a golden friend, knowing he would come back for them, and turned towards the generous crowd of students that circled around a ceremonial twirl of talented figures, graced by the goddess as they shared the floor. 

A princess, among their group, crowned with beautiful lavender eyes that adorned the flow of her hair. Another, a strong and vigilant noble, a lady's favourite at best, tapping at the tiles as his quick smirk caught the attention of a few set of others. And an accompanying archer whose glow hides behind a pair of circular spectacles but with a smile as innocent as white daisies. 

He knew he couldn’t, he knew he shouldn’t. Engulfing his feelings and adding to fire that burned down the walls of his flesh, the claws of the demon inside him tearing at his skin and telling him to stop and turn away before it would all fall apart. He didn’t intend on listening. Yet he did. _Pain he shall feel. Pain he shall reap._

A quick word of mouth prompts his head to swerve around, dashing and twisting around valleys of heads as he seeks to find the source, the source of fuel to urge his sorrow and hopelessness, pulling him further into the pit of despair he so longingly wanted to sleep in knowing it could kill him. 

Why was he searching for it? He wasn't too sure. The possibility of drowning in the consequences of his mistakes sounded blissful to him. 

_“Incredible… The Professor sure is talented at everything, isn’t she?”_

_“That’s the Professor? Who knew she could dance so well and look so graceful!”_

_“I wished I could have the Professor’s swordsmanship, but now I want her dancing talent too!”_

_The Professor… The Professor… The Professor…_

**_Hand in hand with someone else._ **

**_The same moment his heart crumbled and fell apart. ___** ____

__The smile on her face, the joy in her movements, the emotion she expresses, all characteristics that brought her into equilibrium with Lady Rhea._ _

__No one could do that._ _

__No one could do that except—_ _

__“Your Highness? Where are you heading off too? I thought you were going to dance. The festival has yet to end.” There was a familiar calloused hand that laid on his shoulder, granted it was out of their concern and not sheer force keeping him put._ _

__“Oh, Dedue. I-I’m, uh, I’m heading to the Goddess’ Tower.” Another dreadful lie that threatened to tear at his throat. “Five glasses of strong Adrestian liquor does a lot to a noble, it seems.”_ _

__He was already quick to run with his feet, trampling across the tiled floors embarking towards the set of double doors marked with two guards accompanying the entrance._ _

__“All right. I’ll take it you don’t need me there to accompany you?”_ _

__“N-No… No, thank you.” He pleaded, a crack in his throat that would prove the only evidence Dedue needed if he wanted to figure out how much his highness was dying in torment within invisible indestructible walls. “Need not worry about me, I suggest you head to rest after the festival has ended to ensure you sleep easy. I will return shortly after nightfall.”_ _

__“Are you sure, Your Highness?”_ _

__Dedue was too late to reply with his question, already watching as the familiar figure in blue dashed across the court and through the doors before they flooded back in together, closing behind and disguising his wince of fear and shame._ _

___Shame… Shame… Shame…_ _ _

__Shame on him for not making a move. He was guilty of regret. A victim of grief and envy, a terrorist on his heart stabbing over and over again at his chest, watching as he bleeds endlessly, red falling into his hands._ _

___Why didn’t he do anything before it was too late?_ _ _

___Why didn’t he say anything to them before that smile rested on those beautiful lips that spoke words of song?_ _ _

__The hands of strength and skill, but touched with elegance and grace, the same set of hands he’d never have the pleasure of holding again, knowing someday, those same hands will rest in another, kill with another, lead with another, wipe the tears of another._ _

__He was a fool. A drunken fool, oblivious to the obvious exchange between feelings that gave and received every encounter he had with them._ _

__Digging his nails into cold, crumbling stone bricks atop the goddess’ tower and watching as the moon rose, for the first time, his lips quivered. His eyes closed shut, and his arms swirled around his head to grip his hair and tug holding back a scream, knowing someone could hear his pain being shouted in suffering. How his highness was crying within the dark, bleak shadows of the festival, alone to himself, about how shameless he was to be alive._ _

__And then it echoed._ _

__“I don’t think you know, Professor, just how special this occasion is to me.”_ _

__“How are you so sure?”_ _

__“It was written all over you. You’ve been smiling ever since I put my arms around your shoulder and announced the greatest dancer of the year, or how much you looked like an angel with the lights highlighting the happiness on your face every step you took with me.”_ _

__“Really?”_ _

__“Of course. You…”_ _

__He held his breath._ _

___“You mesmerized me, Professor.”_ _ _

__And for a moment of complete silence, a tear had fallen down his cheeks._ _

__**A cry.** _ _

__**A broken heart.** _ _

__**A physical embodiment of hopelessness.** _ _

__“I hope there will be someway that both of us can share another endearing moment like this again, Professor. I’m certainly glad to have shared it with you out of everyone who could’ve taken my hand.”_ _

__“Is this your wish?”_ _

__“My wish?”_ _

__“Yes.”_ _

__He crossed his fingers, praying to himself. Praying that there was a spiritual dagger that was nearby he could willingly stab into himself to face the truth that was presented while he listened at the conversation a storey below._ _

__Let it stab into himself countless times… No number could make up the pain and tragedy that could submerge him under an ocean of sorrow and despair, drowning him until he could no longer breathe. Let him continue drowning, revived by his mistakes as he relives the death of his life in a bed of consequences adorned on him. Adorned to a prince who failed to express how he felt._ _

__It hurt him so. It hurt that it wasn't _him_. _ _

__“This is my wish. To meet again and make you smile once more, for as long as the years will come.”_ _

__And the professor smiled._ _

__“And I am honoured.”_ _

__He clasped his mouth feeling his knees buckle beneath him, the strength and energy that fired within the prince long exposed to the frosty cold air that encased him in a trace of bitterness that didn’t feel like the warmth that was felt indoors. The warmth had long gone. The fire in his chest had extinguished. Falling to the cracked floor of the cold balcony upon the goddess’ tower listening as the conversation unfolds, his life was in shambles._ _

__An unlucky prince. A heartless prince. An unfortunate prince who paid the price and sunk to the ground feeling more helpless tears drip down his face with a pair of hands too dirtied and rough to wash away the pain as gently as theirs._ _

__The selfish prince who missed his chance to say—_ _

___“Don’t leave… Don’t leave me… Please…”_ _ _

__And with the final cry of his broken voice, for once in his life, he wished he was someone else._ _

__He wished he was them. He wished he was with _them_. _ _

__“Thank you for everything.”_ _

__“No, thank you for everything, Teach.”_ _

__With another stretch of his hand, he felt it all._ _

___Dimitri... felt everything._ _ _

___“Don’t leave me…”_ _ _

__**_“I'm in love with you… Claude…” ___** _ _

**Author's Note:**

> my [tumblr](https://cruel-oath-faith.tumblr.com/)


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